so eden calls me up. “your favorite person is back in miami.” “would you be friends again…it was a long time ago, he’s a different person, blahblhablhablhablah”

i don’t care anymore. i mean, it would be cool if i could trust people again. it would be nice to be able to make friends without pulling fucking teeth. but nothing’s going to undo that, so why bother? to pretend he wasn’t a bad person? to act like I’m and he’s OK and everything’s cool? I might as well call the bee up and say lets play pool or whatever. which again, pa’ que? i dunno. Eden’s acting like he throws me into a rage, but it’s really kind of worse because i feel nothing. He didn’t care then, so why fake it now? I dont’ get it. Indifference, which man…fuck I tried with that guy man. Afterwards, I mean. I tried the hardest and he just fucking threw it in my fucking face. So karma can take of that, I guess.

also, sun’s mad at me now and i don’t know why. but i guess i’m enough of an asshole that asking for a specific reason is kind of silly. putting me off for weeks with ‘don’t want to talk’ which i know what it’s like but then hangs with tai or mei? girl things, i don’t know. and I don’t even know if it’s me or not. asking just makes it worse without explaining anything.

oh and laurachicken gets brain surgery soonish.

and i find out the sex this weekkkkkkkkkkkkk

finally three days later my leg stopped hurting although last night more stabbing pains. i think about vic, you know. i mean, he was fine that week. put in a full day and we said later and i left him working on some windows shit with W and poof he’s gone. i gotta set things up for in case i shuffle off this mortal coil. I think of Dee and her bloodclot in her leg.

Another year, and it gets further away and it hurts less, I guess. Eventually I will be able to stop feeling it at all. And if there were even the slightest bit of genuine sorry, we could be friends. Such a bitter pill. Last night at the big B, rockin’ it with Tai-tai:

me: So I’m sad.tai-tai: Why?me: because it’s the 4th of July.tai-tai: So?me: It’s my anniversary for when my drama-llama bullshit happened.tai-tai: oh.me: I mean, I bet you don’t even remember when the thing with your sister happened.tai-tai: no, I don’t know the day or even the month. I remember where i was and what I was doing.me: but that’s my point. I can’t forget, and even if I did, there’s fucking fireworks to remind me.tai-tai: like a party! YAY!

title courtesy of The Bird and The Bee’s “fucking boyfriend”, which song was what was playing on the CD that I gave Little Trouble Girl after her romantic misadventure with her puppy-love/co-worker person thing when she was driving to work and ran into (figuratively) said puppy-love/coworker. Like some shit out of a John Hughes movie or something.

speaking to squirt yesterday she drops “you know the reason i never liked you romantically 12 years ago when we met was because when i asked what you looked like you were so negative that it killed it”. i cock-blocked myself. I bummed about this on several levels.

got mail from skeeter’s man that her kid (#2) had been born, with attendant pictures. They both look glowingly happy, her in particular but that might be a mix between relief and happy and tiredness. The amusing thing is on friday I wanted to call her and in fact got as far as dialing but she’s still mad at me (justafiably, i’m a sellout although i take issue with her iron-gripped resentimiento, i’m guilty of the same thing so i can’t really complain about that too hard.) and probably would not have answered but I never got to follow up and call again. Too much of that is annoying, especially when someone is pointedly not answering. But WWu mails occasionally, and I hear things on the grapevine de rato en rato so I guess it’s ok.

It’s hardly news that I am horrible about checking my messages. So yesterday I finally check my voicemail at work — I haven’t checked it since December, easily. There’s a familiar number but I can’t place it. Victor, telling me to fix the fucking LDAP lookups about two weeks before he died.

Today, I talked to a friend, didn’t get to finish my soup, got to listen to schlocky rock (or jazz? I don’t know, bruce hornsby is very jazz-lite, but then again he’s done rock too), went to miami beach despite boat show traffic, avoided getting scammed, walked on the beach and got new shoes wet in the surf, saw a wedding i was not a party to, made excellent falafel (hint: before you roll them into balls/patties, drop chopped cilantro/dill and a wee bit of hot sauce into the dough/mix. also, if you fry at medium-low heat they take longer but dry out less,) and had a heavier-than-i-would-have-liked mediterranean dinner (falafel, tzaziki, stuffed grape leaves, flatbread, kaseri cheese). finish the day off by noticing that i never filled out my valentine’s card i bought the mrs so spent 15 minutes on something that will make her smile in the morning.

Listened to a lot of Sufjan Stevens today — picked up The Avalanche on a whim at a used CD store (yeah, I still buy CDs, I’m all quaint) and was blown away. Bought Illinoise just for Casimir Pulaski Day but am enjoying other songs on there. The Avalanche CD is more enjoyable at the moment though; the three versions of Chicago, the supercomputer song, it’s all jawsome!great. I even went and learned me some guiterchords for ‘em.

walking in a hallway dark not scary but dim and then with b, into a cafeteria-looking room and we have been looking for something but not finding it, and she is in trouble for killing a man and we’re not friends but not enemies either and things are tense and awkward and i want it to be unfuckedup and friends because she needs help and i could do something and i hate feeling like this, compromised into being unable to be friends, but can’t forgive without some sign of friendship, or caring, and there’s just words and platitudes and i do not want to be here but am forced to (the way that you don’t know why you have to do something in a dream but you just know it) so i do it and the tension is worse but i’m not angry just sad, overwhelmingly sad, and it’s dim like we’re where even sadness is something to see and the look on her face is best described as vexed or “i know something needs to be done but i don’t know what” and i wake.

I don’t know. This at home, in the heart, complex and annoying. Feeling …not broken, but pathetic, bathetic. Sterling’s preggers, Sun’s home, Avery is huge, my mother thinks I hate her or I’m a jerk, I don’t really know anymore. hot sub w/ sun earlier. she’s way cool and outta all the girls probably the one I am most comfortable with. I love taitai and meimei and sterling, but sun’s a good mix of them all. i think in jan i will go with mills to get my tattoo. she’s gotta decide what she wants though…I’m getting a new tele tomorrow, I hope. I am giving the SG to Mei-mei to fuck with, the pickguard to either sun or tai-tai. new guitars are funfunfun, always leads you somewhere else, like a new girl or a new car or a new way home.

I have a dog now, he is cute and small and I am responsible for him. I hope to get a cat sooner rather than later; a jellicle for preference (gonna name her “Sally Pimienta”).

talked to eden like 4 or 5 times in the last week; things are rough on his end vis-a-vis V. which sucks, he’s had it rough sometimes. he was very sincere and sorry about getting out of touch with us all, said thanks for me trying to keep in touch with him since he didn’t know how to start things. he’s spoken to solo and bunny and will probably maybe this time come to miami. I dunno. Told me Mo’s living in O-town and they don’t really hang or speak. eden talks to mike now and again tho..

while moving I found some boxes with pictures. i feel distant from them, they don’t really touch me anymore…I don’t know how to feel about that.

good books: world war Z, that dylan bio I’m xmas’ing away, the last postsecret book mills gave me for xmasgood music: night ripper by girl talk — all samples…shit, it’s like “paul’s boutique” all over again; coil’s “the ape of naples” which i re-listened to because bunny hooked me up with coil bootlegs and i ran into an interview with sleazy from last year about all the shit since balance died…oh and the new fucking daft punk album is so fucking hot it glows

vignette: eden’s gf at the time lived on sunset, i go with him to hang, her gay friend says hello — i am broken and falldown ebcause of mo. i leave the party and go to his old pad with ron — rose was there even then — and tell him our friendship’s over. he tells rose that if it’s her fault…blahblahblah. i tell him it’s his fault, it’s about b but more about how he didn’t tell me. i leave and go back to the party. the girlfriend’s gay friend tells me my aura has changed color dramatically — from orange/red to green (or other way? I don’t remember the colors he said). I tell eden and tell him what happened.

what makes me saddest about the whole thing is how pointless it was. i mean, so many ways to end it that wouldn’t have caused all that kind of fallout. “oh well” is all there is to say and it doesn’t seem enough.

this real estate bullshit is fucking bullshit. every time i get closer to the house it’s a change of what was expected. jesus. it’s like dating but with the payoff that you’re in debt well beyond your eyeballs. a bugfuck crazy girlfriend is tame compared to this kind of frustration.